Page 77 of Check & Chase
“Wouldn’t expect you to,” Chase replies easily. “Though I’m still weeks away from being cleared for contact.”
The server drops the check off a few minutes later, and after Jackson grabs it before I can protest, we finish up and head outside together. The cool night air greets us as we step onto the sidewalk, pausing just beyond the restaurant doors. Jackson pulls me into a bear hug.
“Be careful, Em,” he murmurs in my ear. “Not because of him. Because of you. I see the way you look at him.”
The observation makes my chest tight. “I’m fine, Jack. I know what I’m doing.”
He releases me with a skeptical expression, turning to Chase with a final warning disguised as a handshake. “Take care of her, Mitchell.”
“Always,” he promises.
We watch Jackson walk away, standing side by side.
“That went better than expected,” Chase finally offers. “No blood was shed.”
“A miracle, considering. Thank you for coming. And for not taking the bait when he pushed.”
He studies me in the glow of the streetlight. “He loves you. Can’t fault him for that.”
“Still. It wasn’t fair, putting you on the spot about Amber.”
“I’ve had worse interrogations. Besides, it was worth it.”
“Worth it? To get grilled by my brother over expensive steak?”
“Worth it to see you defend me,” he clarifies, voice dropping to a register that makes my pulse quicken. “To hear you say you believe me.”
The intensity in his gaze makes it hard to breathe. “I do believe you.”
“I know. That’s what makes it special.” His free hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “No one’s ever just… believed me before. Not without proof or recordings or lawyers involved.”
The vulnerability in his admission catches me off guard.
“And thank you for standing by me in there. For trusting me enough to let me into your life, even if it’s just temporary.”
There it is. The acknowledgment of our arrangement, the reminder that this has an expiration date. Yet it feels at odds with the way he’s looking at me.
“We should talk. About what’s happening here. Between us.”
Chase nods, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “We should. But not here, not now. It’s been a long night, and you look cold.”
As if to prove his point, a shiver runs through me.
“My car’s this way. Wait—actually, you should drive. I had wine.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, I figured. Come on.”
He falls into step beside me. “But Emma?”
“Hmm?”
“This conversation we need to have? It can’t wait much longer.”
The weight of his words settles between us, a promise and a warning. Because we both know that whatever we say next will change things irrevocably.
“I know. Tomorrow.”
He nods, accepting the delay even as something like anticipation flickers in his eyes. “Tomorrow, then.”
